Glorification
by Clarenova
Summary: Glorfindel goes onmission as seneschal to rediscover an old blocked passage in the Hithaeglir that has recently become unblocked. But that's not the only dusty thing he's going to dig up.


::Glorification:: 

Disclaimer: Tolkien is a god, and I am a mere humble ant in his presence. 

A/N: Finally, after beating about my rather large bush, a story based on Glorfindel and Glorfindel alone (well, almost, at least). 

* 

Sometimes, burdens had to be borne, by fate or destiny or even some higher power. Burden was often seen of as a pest, something that no living creature, firstborn or second, would wish upon themselves. It was usually true. Fate had an uncanny way of selecting the most unlikely of candidates and reading a litany of duties and oddities to them before thrusting the poor fool into the world. Unlikely as it all was, the Valar had a part in all of this, and so some people just had to suffer. 

Glorfindel was one of them. Twice born elf lord of a high (though somewhat extinct) house, old, venerable, wise amongst other things and above all loyal to the House of Elrond (Earendil, Idril and so on) to the point of death. Quite, in hindsight, literally. It was funny really, how Witchkings, Angmar, Nirnaeth Arnoediad and other great battles, foes, evil beings and other Morgoth/Sauron related spawn turned shale in comparison to some of the duties he had to do as an elf lord of Elrond's house. 

Sighing, the golden haired elf lord turned another corridor and hollered, 'Elladan! Elrohir!' 

The two of them were at it again. Only that morning Glorfindel had woken up to a redecorated room, of which sported now a wallpaper of honey and chocolate, as well as a wardrobe that had been gleefully sprayed down with sugared water, which had inadvertently attracted the pestilence of ants to his room. Thankfully, he always kept a set of spare clothes in the barracks, but getting there covered in confectionery and clad only in his sleeping robes had been quite an effort. Erestor would pay for sniggering. 

Elrond, of course, tolerated all of this nonsense with an easy smile and a sense of quite amusement. This was, of course, always coupled with an arched eyebrow that served as an underlying threat of "touch-them-and-die", directed at the poor, suffering elda. It was at times like this where Glorfindel just wanted to scream bloody murder and curse the valar in fourteen different languages (among them a dialect of Quenya he had picked up in Gondolin that had a happy (and expansive) vocabulary of curse words.). Celebrian, though slightly more sympathetic, always jumped at the opportunity of poking fun at the usually collected seneschal. Glorfindel was not amused. 

The track of muddy footprints were getting more random, the elda noticed. They also seemed to be leading... To the gardens? Glorfindel frowned, unable to reason why Elladan and Elrohir would want to exit through to the gardens using this long and complicated path when there had been more than one shorter ways to detour through throughout the way. This path passed through a rather long series of steps and that large ornate arch... That was extremely easy to climb and rig, for example, to pour water over any unknowing elf that happened to pass under. Glorfindel sighed resignedly as he felt he felt the liquid collide with his (once) neatly brushed locks. Looking up, he spotted the two twin elflings gleefully waving back at him. He loved them, yes, but sometimes they were just more trouble than they were worth. Slicking a few strands of hair that had fallen in his face back, Glorfindel quirked a (wet) eyebrow at them, crossing his arms in annoyance. 

'Have you had your fun now, tithen gwanûn?' 

The one Glorfindel identified as Elrohir waved down merrily. 

'You should have seen the look on your face, Glory!' 

This rendered a disapproving yet somewhat amused frown on Glorfindel's face. The elf knew that the two elflings had long ago perfected the proper pronunciation and spelling of their tutor's name, and yet at times they slipped into their nickname for him merely to tick the elf lord off. Glorfindel usually found it quite funny and endured the teasing that it resulted in from his fellow captains good-naturedly. This time, however, it failed to get him totally forgive the two. 

'You are still in trouble, gwanunig.' 

Elrohir pouted adorably, but the look was lost upon the ancient elf beneath them. Elladan soon locked him in a staring match as the three elves contested against each other; whether Elladan and Elrohir would relent and climb down like good elflings to be marched off to their lessons, or whether Glorfindel would disgrace himself and clamber up after them to force them to come, kicking and screaming, into the torture room of their father's study, where they would be met by disapproving frowns and generally distasteful punishments. Elladan eventually won. 

Glorfindel stripped off his outer robe and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, pushing his hair back as he wrung the water out. 

'I am going to give you one last chance, gwanûn, or else I'm coming up after you and your Winter Solstice will be horribly spoilt. Very horribly, I might add, if I have anything to do with it.' 

This triggered off a moment of consideration between the two elflings as they huddled together for a moment on the arch and contemplated their choices and chances. If they relented now, they undoubtedly would get into trouble (getting Glorfindel annoyed to the point where Elrohir's puppy dog faces did not work was a sure sign that they were not going to escape from the situation unscathed) but it would be still less than getting Glorfindel even angrier by forcing him to pry them off the rock surface. Besides, the Winter Solstice was unnervingly close, and one wrong move could result in a spoilt winter season and, generally, a lot of tantrums and bad temper, which never failed to upset the Lady of Imladris, which would eventually put Elrond himself into a foul mood. 

Reluctantly, the twins descended from their perch. Glorfindel mentally breathed a sigh of relief. If any one of them had hurt themselves, Glorfindel would probably end up as a dish on the menu for the upcoming festival. Catching Elrohir as he threw himself at Glorfindel, the elf patted the elfling's head, never one to remain angry at the two for too long. Elladan grinned, seeing the expression on his tutor's face. Glorfindel was in a forgiving mood after all! This could bode well for the twins. As the older twin finally placed a foot on sturdy ground, Glorfindel brushed them off and ruefully picked up his soaked robe from the floor. Elrohir happily latched onto his free hand, as he tugged urgently on the blond elf's arm. Glorfindel looked down at him as smiled gently. 

'Yes, gwanunig?' 

Elrohir's large, blue black Noldorian eyes shone up at him, the kicked puppy look which unfailingly melted Glorfindel's heart. 

'You aren't angry with us, right, Glory?' 

Glorfindel fought the urge to hug the almost saccharine look out of the elfling's eyes. Softening his tone, the faithful keeper of Elrond's house responded, 

'Of course not.' 

'Not even though we poured honey down your drawer?' 

_They WHAT?!_

'Of course not, tithen gwanunig.' 

'Even though we told Ada that you said those words you told us never to tell Ada in class?' 

Glorfindel's smile was beginning to look a little forced to Elladan, and he quickly nudged his twin to get him to shut up. Elrohir, though, was too deep in his efforts to win back his tutor's good side, and went on obliviously. 

'Even though we drenched your favourite blue shirt green?' 

'I _think_ we might just want to take a detour here, gwanunig...' 

'But doesn't this lead to Erestor's office?' 

Neither twin harboured a like for Erestor whenever they were in his lessons. The dark haired tutor was nice out of lessons, but he was awfully strict in comparison to Glorfindel when it came to their work. 

'Does it, now?' 

* 

Elrond shook his head as he found Glorfindel in his office, sitting as little of his dripping form on an ornate chair as possible to avoid spoiling the old piece of furniture. Setting his quill down, the Lord of Imladris titled his head to the side in quite amusement. Glorfindel's long fingers were trying to undo his drenched braids as the elda scowled at him. 

'What did they do to you this time, Glor?' 

Shooting a quelling look at his friend, the elf lord pulled his leather hair tie off. 

'I'll choose to view that as a rhetorical question, Peredhel.' 

Musical laughter spilled from Elrond's lips as he stood up to clasp his long-time friend on the shoulder. 

'You are most amusing to watch when disgruntled, my friend.' 

Glorfindel glared, but his eyes were dancing. 

'I'm always happy to provide entertainment for my lord in my misery.' 

Elrond sobered up. 

'There's has been unsettling news from the border, though. That is why I demanded your presence here. I need to get this settled as soon as possible, especially before Celeborn and Galadriel's visit.' 

The seneschal thought he saw Elrond wince. Celeborn had permanently traumatized Elrond back before he had married Celebrian. The fact that the two of them had managed to get married with Celeborn's unrelenting monitoring of his only daughter was a miracle unto itself. 

'The orcs seem to be pouring over the Hithaeglir at an alarming rate. It troubles me, Glor, frankly. The power that I hold over the Bruinen is expansive, but I do not wish to abuse it. Evil still sleeps in this land.' 

Glorfindel, carefully pushing his dripping hair aside, leaned over the glass encased map that was Elrond's desk. Tapping a long finger on the path of the Hithaeglir, Glorfindel traced it down the Bruinen and frowned. 

'The yrch normally are unable to scale the heights of the Misty Mountains, especially with the winter upon us as it is. Patrols have been lax in the areas near the Hithaeglir, mainly because there has never been need for them before now.' 

Elrond placed his head in his hands thoughtfully as he glanced at the path his friend had traced, before suddenly perking up. 

'I recall that area. A number of decades back, an avalanche took place there. You remember it, a rather large one. It covered up a series of caves that was once used for smuggling goods to and fro between the mountains. It must have somehow been uncovered. The goblins have extensive caverns and networks for the better part of the Hithaeglir, and even though they have been mostly driven back in the Battle of the Five Armies, portions of the goblins still remain, especially with a substantial warg host that allowed them escape.' 

Glorfindel gazed silently at the map. 

'So you think that the orcs have somehow joined with the goblins, and that the uncovered cave systems are granting them access over the Hithaeglir? It is possible, and dangerous if that is the truth. We might need to reblock the caves.' 

Elrond shook his head. 

'That is far too dangerous. Blocking the caves would take explosives of a type, and we cannot risk the lives of the guard by asking them to blow up the caves and chance a freak avalanche in the process. Orcs could take advantage of that.' 

Glorfindel shook _his_ head. 

'The cave system, if I remember correctly, was situated near the base of the Hithaeglir, very near the outlet of the Bruinen, in fact. Taking it down would not be very dangerous if we placed explosives near the front of the caves.' 

Elrond frowned. 

'True. It is, after all, the summer season and the Hithaeglir was not heavily snowed it last winter. But I do not like the idea of explosives at the base of a mountain. It speaks of much danger. Almost folly.' 

Glorfindel drummed his fingers on the glass tabletop in thought, sending droplets of water everywhere. 

'It would be greater folly not to block it. We have been protected by the block for years, and doubling the patrols now would put a sudden strain on our defences elsewhere.' 

Elrond massaged a temple. The silence that ensued dragged on. Glorfindel shook his head at long last after a moment of contemplation. 

'We cannot judge this based on our memories alone. I would rather I go myself.' 

Elrond raised an eyebrow. 

'Alone? Isn't that rather risky?' 

Glorfindel shot his friend a humouring glare. This was rather ruined by the amount of wet hair plastered about his face. 

'I thank you for your concern, my lord, but I think that I can handle myself well enough. Besides, I would not want to attract the attentions of the _yrch_ by forcefully hauling a patrol with me. I could slip around easily on my own.' 

Elrond smirked and threw his hands up in defeat. 

'Fine, fine. When will you leave?' 

Glorfindel shrugged. 

'Tomorrow. I would not leave it for too long. Give me a week.' 

Elrond nodded, then laughed suddenly. Glorfindel's brow furrowed. 

'What?' 

The Lord of Imladris pointed at a Glorfindel shaped patch on his chair and laughed again. Glorfindel rolled his eyes, chuckling slightly, and went for a cloth, dripping water all over the place. 


End file.
